Julie's Bad Night
Title: Julie's Bad Night Players: Juliet Parrish and Michael Donovan Location: L.A.: Beachfront Apartments #2B Synopsis: Julie's had a VERY bad day... Now Mike gets to find out, sorta, how bad. LOG BEGINS Michael Donovan, after several repeated and lengthy attempts at knocking on the door, finally relents and uses the key he's been given. As he closes the door behind him, he feels a little bad about coming over unannounced, but given the tone of his last conversation with Julie and the fact that he dodged boys in blue and boys in red to get here undetected, he has little other choice other than to let himself in and wait for Julie to get home. Juliet Parrish is home, and seated in the living room, staring at the TV without really seeing what's on the screen. Next to her on the sofa are several chocolate bar wrappers, and on the table in front of her is an open bottle of wine, more than half empty, with a partially full glass in the doc's hand. She's slouched down, the sound cheesy game show seeming oddly out of place when taking in the Doctor's appearance. Michael Donovan takes in all of the signs: lack of responsiveness, evidence of "comfort food abuse", blank stare at a fairly unengaging example of television. It doesn't take a former tele-journalist to put the pieces together. "Julie?" he calls in a soft yet stable voice, trying to win her back from the evil clutches of Pat Sajak. "You shouldn't be here. Bates is likely to show up any time, wanting to know where I and O'Leary have been," Julie's voice returns, though she doesn't turn her head away from the mind-numbing program on the boob tube. She does, however, lift her glass, taking a large sip (okay, gulp) of wine. Michael Donovan shrugs casually, "You're talking to me as though I'm a guy that hasn't left someone's apartment by way of the balcony before, Sweetheart." It's an attempt at humor, albeit a lame one. Juliet Parrish lifts a shoulder, shrugging it half-heartedly. "Your choice, Michael." Ohhh, the full name. Yikes. A piece of chocolate, and then another gulp of wine. What a combination. Having nearly finished the glass, Julie leans forward, grabbing the bottle by the neck to unceremoniously fill her glass again. Michael Donovan can't help but frown at the display. This wasn't the lecture he had come by to give, but he seems to have little choice. "So what's on your mind, Julie?" Still the diminutive, despite Julie's using the formal, "Aside from half a bottle of Port?" Juliet Parrish sets the bottle back on the table heavily, before looking over her shoulder dully. "What do you want?" she asks simply, not into playing games tonight, not interested in twenty questions. "You came for something." She knows him well, she does. Michael Donovan takes a deep breath, this being far from the setting in which he wanted to have the conversation he's about ready to have with Julie. "It's just that I wanted to straighten things out. We didn't really part on the best of terms the last time we talked, and, well..." "You and everyone else." Julie informs him, bringing the glass up to drink again before she stands, only slightly unsteadily. "So bitch away, I'm ready," she adds, turning to make her way very carefully around the sofa before heading towards the kitchen. Michael Donovan's eyes follow Julie towards the kitchen. "I'm not here to bitch. I'm not -that- thick-headed... at least not today... I just didn't want you thinking I was mad at you." Juliet Parrish shrugs faintly as she gets to the kitchen. Not setting her glass down, she opens the fridge, staring into it. "I know why you're here, Mike. Might as well add Chiang to the list. Bates, Chiang...I think that's it. So go ahead, I'm listening." Michael Donovan decides to just come out and say it then, since Julie is so intent on beating herself up at this point. "I'm mad at myself, Julie. Horrible things seem to happen to everyone I care about, and despite everyone looking at me like I'm some sort of big, invincible hero figure, I can't do a damn thing to prevent it. To protect you." "You don't have to protect us all." Juliet insists, sipping from her glass as she continues to stare into the fridge before closing it and opening the freezer. "You can't be everywhere, all the time." Michael Donovan shakes his head at that. "I know that..." He taps the side of his head, "at least up here I know that. Other parts of me aren't so easy to convince." Juliet Parrish reaches in, pulling out a box of ice cream. You guessed it, Chocolate flavor. With chunks of fudge, even. "What do you want me to do?" she asks simply, her voice still not changing in it's inflection whatsoever, and that glass of wine isn't leaving her hand either. Michael Donovan shrugs at the question. "Stay as reasonably alive and sane as you can manage? Of all the things to worry about, don't worry about how I feel for you. As uncertain things are right now, that's the one constant you can bank on, alright?" Juliet Parrish practically throws the ice cream onto the counter, snorting softly, "Right," she returns, her now empty hand lifting subtly, as if to run through her hair, but brushing over her face as she goes. "Is that all?" Michael Donovan frowns severely at the callous response. "Pretty much," he says in all honesty, looking somewhat hard-pressed to add anything, especially given the current mood of the audience. Juliet Parrish sets her glass on the counter, not turning back to face him as she pulls open a drawer a little too hard, nearly sending it, and it's contents, spilling onto the floor. "Alright then," she mutters, pulling out a spoon and reaching for the container to open it after slamming the drawer shut. Michael Donovan looks from the front door to the back window and back again, probably wondering which is the best way to leave. "Whatever it's worth to you, I love you, Julie," he says with conviction. Juliet Parrish snorts softly, closing her eyes and sighing, leaning forward against the counter. She doesn't dig into the ice cream, simply standing there. "Then you're alone." she mutters after a minute before adding. "There's a box by the front door you probably want to take back to the ranch." Michael Donovan walks over to the box in question and picks it up, so it could be said he actually accomplished *something* by dropping by. "I guess I'll see you when I see you, then," he says, not sure that he can manage to creep past your defenses tonight. "I won't be back to the ranch, Mike, so if you want to see me, you'll have to come here." Julie responds quietly, still leaning against the counter. The box Donovan picked up contains Pampers, some formula, a soother, a couple of new toys and clothing. Michael Donovan somehow manages to refrain from making any sort of visible reaction to the contents of the box. It would seem that very little surprises him anymore. "If you want to see me," he counters a bit cryptically, "I'll have to come here." "Mike, I don't have it in me to play games. I'll be here." Juliet assures him softly. "Warn O'Leary, Bates is wondering where she is. Might want to warn Tyler as well. They seem to have the leading in hand, and should know so they can decide on a story." Michael Donovan sighs softly at the former. "I know, hon, I know," he says reassuringly. "I'll pass the message along. If you need me... for anything at all, you know how to get me, alright?" Juliet Parrish doesn't respond, simply remaining where she is. What can she say? She doesn't feel like she has any place in the Resistance any longer, and even with Mike, well. What is she doing, kissing Bates? She's beating herself up even more about that than Mike seems to be. Michael Donovan finally departs with the box and without any further fanfare, leaving Julie somewhat reluctantly more or less how he found her. LOG Category:Log Category:RATED-PG